


Calling It Home

by outlawofideal



Series: Roadtrip Lovers [1]
Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Ashton may have some kind of commitment issues, Fluff and Angst, M/M, they travel a lot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-01
Updated: 2015-08-01
Packaged: 2018-04-12 11:53:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4478351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/outlawofideal/pseuds/outlawofideal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They didn’t know they would end up like this just after thirty days of living in trains, running from city to city. But Calum should have understood it from their cabin mates mocking them about how they seemed close.</p><p> </p><p>  <i>or, sometimes calling somewhere home is harder than you think<i></i></i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Calling It Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [irwah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/irwah/gifts).



> Here I am, procrastinating from writing my muke fic. This isn't beta read or anything and may have a lot of mistakes, I'm really sorry for them. Let me know if I missed a tag because I'm sleepy as heck.

It’s really early in the morning or really late in the night, the sun isn’t even up and all Calum can do is watch the sleeping boy in front of him, all squished in two seats with his legs up to his stomach. His head rests on the window, hitting slowly against it with every bump on their way. His cheeks are pink and his right cheek is pressed against the glass.

The scenery is illuminating with a lighter shade of blue over the horizon and there’s no one else taking the trains at this hour of the night, just him and Ashton. It’s preferred place to sleep for the two of them, it’s warm and quiet against the cold city streets, yet he couldn’t sleep. He spots his own wrecked grey hoodie on the curly haired boy. He snores softly causing Calum to chuckle under his breath, putting the city guide book in his hands on large sports bag next to him. He closes his hooded eyes, tucking his jacket between his head and the window. He just hopes he can get some rest before they have to get going again.

They end up wandering in the city center of Paris all day long, next day and Calum loves every second of it even though Ashton manages to get them lost in the fucking metro. It’s like an underground maze to be honest. So he pulls the luggage behind him, staying silent about it.

They get out of the metro on the right station after hours of trying. The weather is nicer than in Germany, a little less humid than in Spain. He watches Ashton argue with a French guy in his forties, getting more and more frustrated with every sentence. He comes back defeated, muttering about how stubborn French people are.

“He fucking answers in French no matter the language I use!” He pushes the crumpled map in Calum’s chest, his adorable face crinkles up. Calum wraps an arm around his toned torso, showing the top of Eifel Tower that is barely seen behind all the buildings with his pointer finger.

“Let’s be fucking tourists for tonight yeah?”

“Yeah.” Ashton nuzzles his nose to Calum’s tanned neck and it’s all okay again.

.

In a week they find a messed up apartment with their saved money and Ashton finds a job as a waiter thanks to his fast learning skills. Calum gets in a souvenir shop in city center because of being multilingual, _well kind of._

He usually comes home earlier than Ashton, bringing cheap wine and fresh bread with him and Ashton sneaks them some food from the restaurant. 

The apartment is really small; all cramped inside with a double bed in the middle of it a tiny bathroom and a kitchen next to the front door. The walls have the reminiscence of old wallpaper once was there. The once gorgeous wooden flooring looks sad now.  There’s a tiny balcony like every other French building.

Calum takes his now old white shirt, changing into a soft shirt the second he enters the apartment, leaving the shirt on ground. He sits down on bed, opening the goddamn city guide book they buy before leaving every other city, studying the suggested sentences in the back until Ashton comes. It’s a good start to learn a new language but he gives up in five minutes and just daydreams about Ashton.

When he met Ashton, Calum had just turned twenty. He had managed to convince his parents for the famous Interrail trip, planning every little thing on the way but he didn’t expect meet another Aussie in the first train he got on. Ashton was always giggly and bubbly from the second he came into Calum’s life, hiding his scar far too deep. He was charming, spelling his way to Calum’s heart. They didn’t know they would end up like this just after thirty days of living in trains, running from city to city. But Calum should have understood it from their cabin mates mocking them about how they seemed close.

He remembers being in Paris two years ago, eating an expansive diner in one of the famous restaurants, it was near Louvre with an exquisite view, as the garçon said, then lying down next to Sen, rock music blasting from their earphones while staring into Ashton’s soft hazel eyes, biting down on his bottom lip, trying to keep his feelings to himself.

Now he’s too fond of the golden haired boy give up on him. He did leave everything behind to be with him after all and he had never been this happy in his life even though he had washed dishes for month they spent in Portugal.

Ashton comes home a couple of hours later, his hair tied in a neat bun, in his black and white sexy waiter attire. His eyes trail down on Ashton’s body, taking a couple of second more for himself on his firm ass.

“Hey,” He smiles softly, rubbing on his eyes.

“Hi,” Ashton mumbles, putting the food he brought down and checking the kitchen cabinets for some cutlery. “You should have eaten the leftovers, babe.”

“I love eating with you.” That’s all can spill from his mouth. He can’t form the words to express his unusual feelings.  It scares him, the words usually gets stuck in his throat. He waits for Ashton every single night, so he won’t be eating all alone in unknown city. Nothing seems right when he tries to talk about his fears for their future and he knows he shouldn’t have got attached this much to one person, but Ashton is the one makes every wrong right. It scares the fuck out of him, the thought of losing him, the meaning of his life slipping away from his hands. It’s too much, especially after watching it happen to so many people, watching his parents fuck up, seeing his best friends break up painfully. It’s all too much and Ashton takes the pressure off his chest.   

He watches Ashton coming closer with the bottle of wine in his grip. He sits down next to Calum, resting his empty hand on his thigh, rubbing soft patterns on it. The brunet boy nuzzles his nose against his neck, trailing his hands up his boyfriend’s sides. “And you know I love eating you.” Ashton giggles, making Calum chuckle with him. He feels light again, his chest doesn’t hurt.

Ashton presses soft kisses along the side of his face, making Calum squirm when his lips ghost over his sensitive spot.

“Maybe you should eat me instead.” He whispers, his skillful fingers finding the hair tie around the bun and taking it off and releasing the amazing curls. Ashton pushes his fingers in his curls and fixes his hair then grabs Calum’s long fingers, intertwining their fingers. His thumb draws soothing circles on the tattoo between Calum’s thumb and pointer finger.

“I will,” Ashton says. He leaves a soft peck on Calum’s cheek, before getting up. “-after we have a decent meal. I haven’t had a thing all day. My stomach’s about to riot and make a French revolution.”

Calum whines a little but he’s hungry too so his sadness doesn’t last for long.  The food Ashton brings from restaurant smells great and tastes delicious but he can’t stop himself from missing Ashton’s cooking. And the stories of every meal he learnt from or for his family.  All the broken memories of the older boy being an adult figure for his siblings…

Calum remembers begging him to go back home, see his siblings one more time but Ashton insisted that he was already done with home. ‘ _Just like you’ Ashton said._ So Calum didn’t push him anymore but always wondered about Ashton’s family, how it would feel to be a part of them.

He is a part of Ashton’s family, kind of. They are each other’s family now. He knows it with his heart when Ashton whispers it to him, when he sings Calum to sleep, when Calum wakes up to a smile on Ashton’s lips first thing in the morning, when they leave everything behind to start over, _again_.  And he falls in love with Ashton over and over again, just like right this second when there’s ridiculous amount of food stuffed in mouth.

He gulps down his wine, his fingers trailing around the mouth of the ridiculous coffee mug he is sipping from. “Do you think that we could get a car this time?” His voice is barely audible but he knows Ashton heard him.

Ashton sighs, putting the plate down on the side table, next to blue alarm clock. “I don’t know baby.” He reaches for his boyfriend’s hand, biting down on his bottom lip. “If we stay that long,”

“I know.” Calum cuts his sentence. It’s a touchy subject because Calum never really understands the want of constant running away Ashton has. It is amazing most of the time; they make memories on every spot they step on. But sometimes he wants to settle down with Ashton in a city, somewhere they can call it home.

He stays silent though, not wanting to fuck up their night. He settles with hand holding instead, lying down on the mattress. Ashton joins him seconds after, facing him. Calum leans forward to leave a kiss on his forehead. His lips linger on the skin, slowly moving down on the sculpted face of Ashton. He leaves another kiss to Ashton’s cheek and another on the side of his lips.

Maybe he wants a fucking house with a never growing puppy, a car he can carry his kids to soccer trainings, a ring on his left hand but he is okay with what Ashton gives him. As long as Ashton gives him his love, it is more than enough for Calum.

.

They don’t get to buy a car and it’s way too hard when their perfect bubble is blown up. It shatters Calum into pieces; not even staying under the covers all day long helps him out. He doesn’t cry, he doesn’t feel like it. It’s not like they had the worst fight and not talking since forever. Ashton whispered him sweet nothing to sooth his shaking body just last night.

He has to go back to Australia and Calum lost the count how many times he asked Ashton to come with him. His passport is about to expire and he can’t stay stuck forever in France. He just thought Ashton would come with him gladly but apparently he doesn’t want to. They don’t even have to go back to Sydney. He doesn’t push Ashton, they are grown ass people who can handle this situation.

But it is frustrating when he has to pack. It’s raining outside, sixth time in a fucking week, and the loud thuds of the rain drops are getting on his nerves. He doesn’t know what to take from their joint clothes; he doesn’t know where he ends and where Ashton starts. It hurts and he can feel it in his whole body. So he just tucks some of it in his backpack, taking Ashton’s favorite t-shirt with him. It still smells like him; fresh, musky and Ashton’s skin; and maybe it will smell like Ashton in a month so Calum won’t lose him entirely.

He closes his eyes, wishing the pain will go away. It doesn’t, he still has the lump in his throat, strangling him furtively. He opens the balcony door, hoping to breathe somewhat better. Rain is welcoming, wrapping him in its arms around Calum. Droplets slide on his hot skin, numbing him slowly. It pushes the pain just a notch further away.

Ashton finds him soaking wet on the balcony hours after Calum stepped out. The rain has already stopped, leaving Calum alone with his thoughts. Ashton sits on the damp concrete next to Calum, a hand pulling his curls, like he doesn’t know how to react. Calum have ink under his skin from every city they went, a permanent stamp this. They have matching tattoos for god sake; they can’t erase this relationship just like this. It doesn’t make sense in any way.

Calum doesn’t cry but there are tears on Ashton’s beautiful face. He leans in and kisses them, stroking the soft skin of his cheeks. “Am I not worth trying?” He ask, pain taking over his voice, his body, his brain.

He gets an apology instead, a string of _‘sorry’_ s. Calum shuts him up with a kiss, wanting to remember the feeling of Ashton’s lips, how soft and gentle they are. New tears roll down on Ashton’s cheek, melting on Calum’s skin and making him feel like crying. He feels the kiss on his every nerve. Ashton’s pulse becomes unsteady under his thumb, both of them losing the control of their bodies.

They pull apart eventually and Calum stares in the red-rimmed hazel eyes. “Once I go back I will let you know where you can find me, baby.” He whispers softly, his voice cracking and he’s not sure he will ever be able to breathe properly from now on. “Please do find me when you have the courage to face your scars.”

**Author's Note:**

> I swear it wasn't supposed to be sad, I always end up with sadness in my Cashton fics.


End file.
